


Changed

by starlightwalking



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barricade Day, Developing Friendships, Gen, Post-Seine, well gavroche isn't really a baby. but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Valjean did not know what to expect when he picked up his old landline, but Javert asking for help certainly wasn't it.
Relationships: Javert & Gavroche Thénardier, Javert & Jean Valjean
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Changed

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Barricade Day! Times are tough right now. Here's something kind of soft and I like to think more hopeful than the usual Barricade Day fare. I'm sure you know by now where you should be putting your time and money toward, if you can, so I won't reiterate it except to say: Black Lives Matter. Do what you can, and stay safe.
> 
> This is pretty much the only time of year I write for this fandom anymore, and I didn't want to miss it, so here you go: a short little modern AU thing I wrote in practically no time at all. I hope you like it.

Valjean did not know what to expect when he picked up his old landline, but hearing Javert on the other end was certainly not it.

"Fauchelevant residence," he began, only to be cut off by an all-too-familiar voice snapping his all-too-familiar name.

"Valjean," growled Javert. Valjean's grip on the phone tightened. He thought they were through with this, he thought he was _safe_ —

But: "I need your help," Javert blurted out, and Valjean blinked. Javert...needed _his_ help? Oh, dear. Had he perhaps arrested the therapist Valjean had set him up with? Or was there something more serious going on?

"I would be happy to assist you," he said, and he meant it, mostly. He was always glad of the opportunity to serve his neighbor—but he was just as glad to live his life in freedom. Still, if this was some new ploy of Javert's to put him back in jail, it was much more inventive than the last time. (And he truly had believed he'd gotten through to the man last time...!)

"Great." Javert sounded more harried than Valjean ever remembered him being. He was always self-assured, collected, absolutely certain he was in the right—until he wasn't, and Valjean was holding him back from suicide. But that had been a morose despair, not this... _frustration_ he heard now.

"What do you—?" Valjean began, but Javert cut him off.

"You know where to find me. Come as soon as you can." He hung up.

Valjean only stood staring at the phone for a moment before hanging it back up. He put on a coat, checked to make sure his pockets were full of bills to distribute to anyone who may need them, and wrote a note to Cosette that he had gone out and would be back later.

He _would_ be back later. If the last incident with Javert had taught him anything, it's that he valued his relationship with his daughter more than anything save his relationship with God. Perhaps not even that.

The best place to find Javert was the police precinct, but Valjean was absolutely not going there. Javert knew that; he must have been talking about... Ah. Yes, of course. That damned bridge he'd almost thrown himself off of.

As he anticipated, a tall silhouette waited for him at the foot of the bridge. As Valjean drew nearer, pausing to hand a few dollars to a homeless woman, he saw that Javert had pulled his scarf over his face so that all that was visible were his sharp black eyes.

"Inspector," Valjean said, forcing as much warmth into his voice as he could.

Javert only grunted. Perhaps too much warmth, then.

"What can I help you with?" Valjean began, but Javert shook his head.

"Not here," he grunted. "Follow me."

Perplexed, Valjean let Javert lead him down the streets and into an apartment complex. Was...he bringing Valjean to his _home_? Valjean suddenly worried that he was in danger—or, could it be possible that Javert harbored _other_ intentions with him...?

"I am not going to murder you," Javert snapped, as if he could sense Valjean's thoughts. "Or arrest you."

"I thought as much," Valjean said cautiously. "Although if you intended to hoodwink me this would not be a bad way to draw me out into the open."

"I quit the force," Javert said flatly. He stopped at a ground-level apartment and pulled out a key. Fiddling with the door, he added, "You were right. Those young folk were right. There is no good to be found there, not for me or for anyone else."

Valjean said nothing. He was astonished: righteous, lawful Javert...had left the police? Why? Even a simple admission of wrongdoing had been impossible for Valjean to wrest from any other cop before, and he had presumed Javert to be, well, the worst of them. Of course there was still good in him—there was in everyone, he believed—but...perhaps their last encounter truly _had_ changed him.

"How are things going with that therapist?" he asked, unsure of how to continue.

The lock clicked, and Javert pushed the door open. "Fine," he said shortly. "Come in." After a moment, he added, "Please."

Valjean stepped inside. He did not have much time to take in his surroundings, as Javert beckoned him quickly down a narrow hallway, stopping him abruptly outside a door.

"Please, do not...get upset," Javert said through gritted teeth. "I...didn't know what else to do."

"What is this all about?" Valjean asked.

" _Quiet_ ," Javert hissed. "He's sleeping."

"He—?"

Javert opened the door, and Valjean's question died in his throat. On Javert's bed slept a _child_ , no more than ten years old, his hair tangled and his clothes dirty. He was half-wrapped in a blanket, sprawled on his stomach and snoring lightly.

Valjean didn't have the chance to look at him long. Javert closed the door and ushered him back down the hall into the apartment's small kitchen. Valjean sat on a barstool and watched, mind whirring, as Javert started to make some coffee.

"So," he began, only for Javert to interrupt him.

"You see now why I came to you?" he said. "Certainly I cannot go to...my former employers. Having been raised in the legal system myself I could not in good conscious send him to them. But aside from feeding him and letting him sleep, I don't know how to—"

"Javert," Valjean said calmly. "I have a few questions, if you don't mind."

Javert glared into his coffee filter. "Alright then."

"To begin: who is he? And how did you find him?" Valjean hadn't the faintest idea of how _Javert_ , of all people, came across stray children.

Javert tapped his foot on the ground. "His name is Gavroche Jondrette," he said. "I...knew him, somewhat, from...before. His parents are in prison; his older sisters are, I think, dead...I came across him this morning on the side of the road, begging. I couldn't just...it was my fault his parents were in jail. They were—well. I don't truly know how awful they were, my perspective on justice has...shifted, dramatically, since that time and I cannot trust my remembered perceptions, but I do think he is better off without them. But life on the _street_! He's only a child, Valjean."

"I knew a child once who had a similar fate in store for her," Valjean said mildly. "You were not so sympathetic then."

Javert huffed. "I am well aware. That is why I reached out to _you_ , since you have experience in...acquiring children with less-than-strictly-legal methods."

"What do you want me to do?" Valjean asked.

"I know you can't just _take him in_ like you did that girl," Javert growled, "but if you could—oh. You...were being serious?"

"Of course," Valjean said. "And Cosette is nearly a grown woman, if I needed to, I suppose I could..."

"No, no," Javert said, a flash of protectiveness crossing his face. "I can take care of him. I think. I need...advice. I can't take him to the legal system, his family is out of the picture. How did you do it, when you adopted that girl?"

"You want me to help you break the law?" Valjean inquired, just to make sure.

Javert laughed. "A year ago we would not be having this conversation, or any conversation. I barely recognize myself, and yet I feel freer than I ever have before, all thanks to _you_. So: yes, Valjean. I want you to help me break the law—because it is the right thing to do."

Valjean smiled. He wasn't going to cry—not in front of Javert—but his heart was full. Javert was a changed man, a _better_ man, and though Valjean would attribute that to God and not himself, he was proud of Javert nonetheless.

"Of course I will help you," Valjean agreed. "Now. First, I _must_ insist you bring him to my home, so Cosette may meet him; she can assure him you mean no harm, though he must trust you enough to come home with you. He will need to bathe, of course, and you'll be surprised how much a growing child can eat, and he'll need new clothes, and..."

As he spoke, Javert began to relax. He poured them each a cup of coffee and nodded, taking out a notepad to record Valjean's advice, and when Gavroche woke up and came stumbling down the hall demanding a snack, Valjean smiled to see how quickly Javert jumped to help him.

Yes, Javert was a changed man. This child would be good for him, if Valjean was there to help...just as Cosette had been good for Valjean.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/) or on my Les Mis blog [@tommorrowcomes](http://tommorrowcomes.tumblr.com/).


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